Aftermath
by Rapunzzle
Summary: There is another by the same title- this is not a rip off, I just happened to have the same title- odd.rnPost "Role-Model". HouseCam. Part III is up. More possibly coming soon, after the next episode.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer:** Not mine-- Fox's:P

**A/N: **So... everybody is doing this, but, here's my take on it.  
And, I just noticed that somebody else used the exact same title, oops! but I had this up on the FOX Message board over a week ago, and I assure you it is not the same story, nor did I steal the title-- just an odd coincidence.

Post- "Role Model", when Cameron leaves Houses' house. (tee-hee).

* * *

Unable to face her, House averted his gaze, fighting back the wall of pain rising from his chest. Her outstretched hand lingered in the air, untouched. House could feel the hurt radiating off her in waves. How could he take her hand knowing that he was condoning this? That it was goodbye? How could he tell her that if he touched her skin then, he might not be strong enough to let go? 

He hated goodbyes— the last one had nearly killed him.

"Never again" he had sworn.

And now Cameron stood before him, dejected, broken, yet composed.

She had done him this favor— coming to him at home to tell him privately, in person, that she could pretend no longer.

She whispered goodbye, and as the door closed quietly behind her, something in him broke— he was a _selfish_ bastard.

Even as she stood before him, hand outstretched in farewell, he couldn't steel himself enough to grant her final wish. He was a coward. He had failed her, just as he had failed her that evening. All her hopes, her gratitude, had been riding on him— one _stupid_ speech and he couldn't rise above his own pride to deliver it and, in so doing, save her. He had crushed her— the one thing he'd promised her he wouldn't do.

But she had crushed him, just now. Did she know it?

Did she know how his heart longed to be honest with her? To stop her?

But he couldn't. Something inside of him was too afraid of the risk; the pain.

"I take risks all the time— it's one of my worst qualities".

The words rang in his ears.

He did take risks, with _other_ people's lives.

Swallowing hard, he forced his eyes upward to gaze at the doorway Cameron had only moments ago passed through. She was gone.

He had done the right thing. He had hurt her, betrayed her, disappointed her, but he had saved her.

"She's so young..." he thought painfully.

He had saved her from a life with him in it— a miserable existence. He was a cripple— an emotionally debilitated, social ogre.

She was kidding herself, drawn to him like a naive nursemaid to a dying soldier. What happiness would she have ever found with him?

"But what about my happiness?" his brain tugged, stubbornly.

House shook the idea loose and sighed heavily. Retreating to his armchair he downed a handful of vicodin.

"I don't deserve that kind of happiness" he reminded himself painfully, "especially not at her expense".

Besides, once here infatuation had passed, he'd be left with the pain of losing her. Better to get it over with now.

Leaning his head back against the seat, House closed his eyes and breathed deeply, attempting to restore a sense of calm.

"There are only two ways I can deal with things. One is in my control--" He felt the pain in her voice-- pain he had caused, "that's to leave".

Yes, the second option was in his control, he knew that. It was for the best. He cared for her-- he had to admit it to himself now, now that she had shaken him to the core; now that she was gone from his life-- and because he cared, he had to let her go.

But he had driven her away! The one shining thing in his life; the first good thing since...

"It's all for the best!" his mind demanded.

He rose, making his way to the liquor cabinet. He tried to push Cameron out of his head-- her face, her smile, her laugh, her voice. The way her hair fell, so softly, over her narrow shoulders.

His mind drifted back to the evening they had spent together not so long ago: taking back the cotton candy, nudging him playfully.

"How could I have let this go on so long?" his mind screamed.

Unscrewing a bottle of vodka, House lifted it to his lips and drew in a deep swallow.

"How could I let her go? Why didn't I stop her!" his heart fumed, regret washing over him, flooding his senses.

"No" he barked loudly, breaking the silence of his empty home.

"She'll be fine" he said softly.

Silently, House berated himself for his own vanity-- as if she would shed many a tear over him, how ridiculous. He certainly wasn't worth it. She'd forgotten him as soon as she'd left his front step. She would fall in love: someone good and kind, like her husband had been.

"But will I be fine?" his thoughs pressed.

House shook his head and slammed the bottle to the counter, causing it to splash its' contents across the polished surface.

He would be fine-- he had always been 'fine'.

Lurking, deep inside him, was a pulsing desire to one day be more than simply 'fine'-- A selfish notion; unrealistic, weak and pathetic.

But... Cameron could have been it-- that 'something' that was missing in his cruel existence. Did her purity, her goodness, have the power to cancel out all that he had become?

"Maybe" he admitted to himself, quietly.

Turning swiftly, House grabbed the nearby phone. Her number? The operator- there can't be that many Allison Cameron's in Jersey-- he'd call them all if he had to.

House dropped, exhausted, into his arm chair and stared fiercely at the telephone in his hand.

What had she done to him? This... sniveling, innocent girl who had transformed him from the snide, miserable pit-viper he had been into the soppy, emotionally wrung-out ingrate he now was?

He threw the phone viciously against the wall.

"How did she do it?" he demanded of himself.

"What made her so different that she could break through where no one else had?"

Cameron's smiling face settled itself in his mind.

"Because no one else had tried..." came the answer.

Cameron had never feared him-- feared for him, perhaps; feared what he might inevitably become without...

Damn her! He was perfectly happy before...

Lies. He was perfectly happy with her...

House sighed heavily. Life, without her in it, in some capacity at least, was no life at all.

He was being selfish, but he needed her-- needed her goodness; needed to see her smiling at him, joking with him, arguing with him, reassuring him that he was still, despite all else, a human being.

"You do it because it's right".

It dawned on him that she had never condemned him for what he had done-- never blamed him for failing her, for 'crushing' her.

No, she had come for him.

House leaned forward and shook his weary head.

"Damn it" he breathed.

Somehow, he must get Cameron back.


	2. Aftermath II

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, not mine. See the first page.

**A/N: **The thing that struck me with the House/Cameron goodbye scene, was her reaction to him not taking her hand; not even looking at her. If I were her, as sensitive and connected to him as she was, I would take that very badly I think. I tried to portray that here. The confusion ensues!

Thanks for the comments. Part III will be up soon, but after that, it stops for a while. I want to see what Fox will do before I move on. So we'll see. ;)

* * *

Cameron could feel the heat rising in her cheeks-- the hot tears prickling her mossy eyes. 

"No" she ordered herself, "enough is enough".

Swallowing thickly, blinking back the unshed tears, Cameron slowly returned her hand to her side.

"He won't even..." her heart wrenched.

Straightening, Cameron forced herself to speak.

"There are only two ways I can deal with things" she croaked, throat tight, forcing down a swell of tears.

Why wouldn't he look at her! She came to him, not just to quit, to say goodbye, but because she needed to see him. She knew why he had done it; that, even to protect her --no, not her, all of them-- he couldn't compromise his principles: "You do it because it's right". That was true, that was why she...

She had to be sure he was alright. That's all.

"One is in my control-- that's to leave".

She pursed her lips, struggling.

It was painful-- more painful that she had anticipated-- saying goodbye to him, letting him go once and for all.

How had she become attached so quickly?

"Goodbye House".

The words stung her lips-- shards of her heart biting into her flesh-- but not so much as his reaction. He had no reaction!

Turning, she gripped the doorknob tightly, willing herself to remain standing, to not let him see how her body trembled, and let herself out.

A single tear snaked its' way down the curve of her cheek and fell from her set chin. She walked, briskly, to her car and fumbled with the keys, another tear following a similar path.

"Damn it" she muttered, chestnut locks falling over her damp face, blocking her view.

Her hand shook as she struggled to unlock the door, bitter tears blurring his vision.

"Damn it!" she bit, louder, kicking the driver's side door in a sudden loss of control.

Finally, her key found its' way through the lock and she flung herself into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind her.

Cameron rested her throbbing head on her arms, folded over the steering wheel.

"He wouldn't even look at me..." she breathed through quiet sobs.

"He wouldn't... even, shake my hand!". The anger flowed freely from her now.

"I'm so... repulsive he wouldn't even touch me!"

Tears burned slow trails down her cheeks-- dejected, hurt, he couldn't even look at her...

She had been wasting her time. How could she have been so ridiculous to assume that he wanted her? He couldn't even bring himself to touch her when she was leaving. What more could he want? She was going-- out of his life, never again to complicate things for him.

"And he couldn't even look at me..." she sighed, broken.

Head resting on her folded arms, Cameron forced her breathing to slow. After a few moments, she turned the ignition and the engine started-- a rough, growling, guttural sound to match the gnawing in her heart.

She lifted her tear-streaked face from her arms and smudged away the salty lines before fastening her seatbelt and pulling away from the curb.

"I should have just kept my mouth shut" she admonished herself softly.

"If only I'd just..." she stopped at a red light, sighing heavily.

Opening the drivers' side window, Cameron let the cool, evening breeze lift the dark tendrils of hair from her neck and tickle her ears.

"No..." she breathed.

"I had to be honest. If not with him, than at least with myself."

The light flicked to green and Cameron pressed on-- homeward.

Her townhouse was dark and stuffy. Cameron unlocked the door-- her hand had ceased shaking. Turning on the inner light, she closed and locked the door behind her and gazed into her empty home: the white sofa and high-backed arm chair --an antique, given to her and James by his mother as a wedding present, it was beautiful, crushed wine velvet and gold rope trim, so elegant; the pristine order of things, the bookshelves carefully stacked and organized by genre, like a library; a candle here or there.

Order-- she ordered the things around her: her home, her job-- it was a way to maintain control. Even becoming a doctor had been a way to seize control-- control over illness, the situation. Knowledge was power, and even though she knew that not everyone could be saved, she still had control over what might be done. She needed it, control, power over her situation. She had no such control when her husband's life had been extinguished before her young eyes.

"One is in my control-- that's to leave". The words she had spoken not long before echoed in her mind.

She couldn't control House, not that she wanted to. He was like a force of nature-- wild, free, and destructive, at times, she had to admit.

"Why wouln't he look at me?"

Her voice was a whisper, soft and small like a child's, but it rang clearly in the solitude of her quiet home, and it startled her.

No, she couldn't control him, wouldn't-- she couldn't control how he felt, or didn't feel, for that matter. But worst of all, she couldn't control herself-- that much was clear. If she could, she might not have gone to him tonight to...

"He wouldn't even look at me..." the fact burned her to the core and shattered her, deeper than she had ever imagined.

Pain. Why so much pain? Hadn't she had enough of that? And now, like some emotional masochist, she had sought out the one man who was incapable of feeling, not only for her, but at all!

"I've brought this on myself" she thought wearily.

Removing her coat, she let it fall to the floor in a rumpled heap.

"But... he wouldn't even... look..." Cameron's resolve crumbled as she dissolved into helpless tears, covering her face with her hands.


	3. Aftermath III

**Disclaimer:** See Chp. I.

**A/N: **Thank you to reviewers :) (I love reviews, they make me happy!) This is the last part of this particular fic, simply because I want to get a feel for what FOX is going to do next. That means I may very well be adding more after Hughsday. We'll see.

Part III is, I feel,a bit unrealistic, but this is 'fiction' so, I figure I can do what I want (within reason, of course, that is my own rule). Part of me had kind of hoped that at the end of the last episode, House would be at Cam's door to ask her back, but alas, that does not happen until the next episode it seems. Anyway, at the end of the ep, I was struck by a sudden idea regarding the champagne and thus, my part III was a bit altered to what you will now read.  
I hope you enjoy ;)

* * *

They were gathered in House's office, well after hours. Excitement, pleasure, and champagne, what could be better? The cork popped and bubbles flowed over the neck of the bottle. 

"Cuddy's a genius-- convincing four people to give up a fortune to save our sorry asses" House smiled.

Vogler was gone and with him, the greatest source of Houses' recent misery. Dr. Cuddy, looking worn yet pleasant, drifted into the room. There was something softer about her-- perhaps because she had been effectively beaten about her own hospital the past two days.

"Dr. Cuddy!" House announced, "The man of the hour!"

He raised his glass to the hospital administrator as she entered wearing a vague smile. The room erupted into cheers as Foreman tossed a brightly colored nerf football in her direction. She caught it awkwardly and her smile brightened some.

"What are you doing?" she questioned with a smile.

"We're drinking" House said flatly, "I would have though that was pretty obvious".

Cuddy tossed the football to Chase who caught it, shocked. She smiled grimly and picked up a nearby glass of champagne and lifted it to House.

"To the great champion-- saved you, saved Wilson" she nodded to Wilson, seated across from Houses' desk, "saved the _whole_ team".

She surveyed the room and sighed, downing the full glass of bubbly in a swift few swallows. Wilson watched from the corner of his eye, as did House, as the woman gulped back the intoxicating beverage before setting the glass down on Houses' desk.

"Of course" Cuddy continued, a note of exhaustion evident in her gravely voice, "none of them would have needed saving if you could actually get along with another human being".

Her words were flat, and accurate.  
House knit his brow and leaned towards her, attempting to soften her mood. Despite all else, she had gotten rid of Vogler, and he had to be grateful for that.

"Thank you, Ms. _Buzz Kill_" he teased.

Cuddy scoffed, "Well, you only cost us... $100 thousand dollars" the price stuck in her throat, _$100 thousand dollar_s..."we could have saved some lives, made a few jobs, helped a few people-- yippee".

House surveyed her blankly, "You voted to get rid of him" he said, flatly.

Cuddy sighed, "Lesser of two evils. You should be mourning, I know I am.." she said heavily and left the now silent room.

Mourning. House hated 'mourning'-- so drab. He thought about what he had to mourn for-- not the loss of Vogler's money, that was for sure. But.. maybe... Cameron?

* * *

Cameron was shocked. She stood in the middle of her living room, telephone held to her ear, with a look of utter disbelief on her lovely face. 

"I... can't believe it" she spoke into the receiver. She couldn't hide the smile on her face. She knit her brow, listening to the response.  
It was evening-- behind her sheer curtains the sky was a muted shade of indigo. Twilight's pale stars had begun to wink over head. She had remained home the past two days, relaxing and regaining her sense of emotional stability. She felt, after the past week, she certainly deserved the break.

She was comfortable in a pair of faded blue jeans and a black tank top. Softly, music was playing-- "Home" but Michael Buble. She loved his voice, so soft and tender-- soothing.

On the table lit by an over-sized white candle, a half-full glass of red wine sat untouched.

"That's _it_?" she questioned, unable to fully fathom the enormity of the situation being described to her.

Cameron listened before opening her mouth to speak when she was halted by a sudden knock at the door.

"Um.." she fumbled, moving towards the landing, "just a second-- there's someone here".

She stepped forward and turned the handle, telephone cradle in the crook of her neck. She stopped cold.

"I... have to go. We'll talk later?" she breathed softly.

"Thanks again, bye".

Pressing 'end', Cameron looked up into the piercing blue eyes of Greg House. He gazed at her.He had missed her; missed her._Missed_ her? Unbelievable. Her dark tresses fell softly over her shoulders and he remembered the last time, only a few days ago, when he had last seen her.

Cameron inhaled with some difficulty and moved aside, holding open the door to allow him entrance. House shuffled in awkwardly as Cameron closed the door behind him. He stepped forward, taking in his surroundings.

"Nice place" he said softly.

Cameron held her breath and forced herself to look at him. What was he doing here!

"So, I suppose congratulations are in order". It was not quite a question, and alsmost a statement.

House knit his brow.

"Wow-- a press release already?"

Cameron displayed the phone in her left hand before setting it down.

"Foreman".

Outwardly, House gave no reaction-- So they talk... The realization struck him harder than it should have.

"Foreman?" House questioned, attempting a surprised facade to cover the fact that he was, indeed, somewhat surprised.  
"Figures-- if anyone was gonna steal my thunder..." House shrugged.

Cameron watched him closely, confusion milling in her mind at an alarming rate.

"He called... to see how I was" she said at last.  
She smiled softly-- "He wanted to verify that I had quit; that you didn't fire me."

House nodded.

"Good 'ol Foreman" he said dryly, "not exactly the trusting type, though".

Cameron sighed and moved slowly past him, arms crossed over her stomach, to stand across the room from him, the sofa separating them.

"What are you doing here?" Cameron questioned, praying he wouldn't hear the tremble in her voice.

House arched a brow, "What, you're the only one who can make House calls?" he joked.

Cameron stood silently. House frowned slightly and lifted a half-empty bottle of champagne into view.

"Celebration" he said meekly.

"There would have been more but... well, Cuddy was thirsty. It wasn't a party without you" he said.

Cameron furrowed her brow and simply gazed at him. House signed and shifted his weight, visibly uncomfortable, and set the bottle down on a nearby end table.

"Ding-dong the boss-man's gone" he joked, and then cleared his throat at her continuing silence.

Eyes fixed on his had gripping the handle of his cane tightly, he continued.

"With Vogler gone" his voice was steady, factual, but Cameron could sense his exhaustion, "I find myself in possession of some excess payroll".

He brought his face up and leveled his gaze on Cameron. He shrugged.

"I thought about giving Chase and Foreman a raise but... well, they don't really deserve it-- especially _Chase_" he grumbled.

Cameron remained silent. She held his gaze, almost daring him to look away. House swallowed and quirked a brow.

"Besides, why waste time going through resumes and" he rolled his eyes, "interviews when I have a perfectly good immunologist right here?" His sarcasm was beginning to fail.

"You need a job and I need an immunologist" he said at last, "it's destiny".

Cameron swallowed and inhaled a deep breath.

"I don't need a job" she said, fighting to keep the tremble from her voice.

House laughed dryly, almost painfully-- "Oh? My bad. Food, clothing, shelter, they're all free now. I forgot..." he attempted to lighten the mood, a task which was proving daunting.

"I don't need _your_ job" Cameron said, a greater note of force evident in her voice.

House blinked-- what? Cameron realized that she had disarmed him-- the fact simultaneously pleased her and pulled at her heart.

"That was fast" House said softly.

Cameron inhaled slowly, attempting to steady her fluttering hands. She tightened her grip on her waist and fought the urge to break contact with his eyes-- she lost. Cameron shook her head and moved towards the table, picking up the wine glass and moving to the kitchen behind her to set it in the sink.

"I sent out resumes a few weeks ago" she said, turning to face him, "just in case".

Her voice was quiet. Why oh why couldn't she maintain her composure around him?

House nodded limply.

"Well" began without completing the sentence.

His eyes, unable to meet hers, searched the dim room.

"I haven't accepted anything" Cameron sighed.

"I didn't... intend to just quit and have something all lined-up. It was just, incase" she said, anger rising in her cheeks.  
"I didn't plan this. It just... happened" she said softly.

House looked into her face, meeting her gaze intently.

"Come back".  
The words were simple; forceful. They surprised her.

"I... I can't" Cameron fumbled.  
Damn her nerves-- she couldn't keep the trembling from her delicate fingers.

"Why not?"  
House had intended to be more neutral, more 'matter-of-fact', but he felt his resolve waning.

"You know why" Cameron said flatly.

House shook his head and exhaled heavily.

"Come back" he repeated slowly, forcibly.

"Why?" Cameron questioned, taking a step closer to him in the quiet room.

Michael Buble's sultry voice floated gently on the air. House knit his brow-- damn it.

"Because you're good. I need and immunologist, and you're already used to me-- I'd hate to have to break in a rookie. You see how fast they crumble around me".

Cameron shook her head.

"I'm sorry... Not good enough."

She dropped her arms to her sides and moved towards him to see him out. House took a step towards her. Damn it! She was going to make him say it...

"What do you want from me?" he demanded gruffly.

Cameron stopped, mere feet from him, and looked up into his face. She held his azure gaze.

"The truth" she said simply. Her voice was steady; calm.

House frowned, angered that she held such sway over him.

_"Fine"_ he thought, _"let her go-- I don't need her..."_

Liar.  
He inhaled slowly.

"We need you" he said at last, breaking his gaze from hers.

Cameron quirked an inquisitive brow and folded her arms over her stomach once again.

"_We_?" she questioned?

House sighed heavily, angrily.

"_Me_, okay! _I_ need you" he snapped, looking up sharply to face her.

Cameron's heart skipped a beat. She released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, speechless. She looked up into his blue eyes-- so tired, almost dim. They lacked their usual icy quality. House exhaled sharply and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"It's... unusual for me to deal with someone who refuses to hate me" he said, forcing himself to sound distant, neutral, controlled.  
"Maybe I do need someone to stick up for me when I 'screw up'" he finished, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

"Come back".

Cameron held her breath, forcing herself to remain steady. She exhaled softly and looked at him. Those few words had been painful, actually painful for him. She couldn't, could she? She'd just be throwing herself to the wolves all over again-- nothing good could possibly come of this.  
But... he did come to her, he came to ask her to come back. That had to be something. Hell, for House that was HUGE. Cameron swallowed, forcing down... whatever it was she was feeling.

"Have dinner with me" she said suddenly, her words were quiet; nervous.

House froze.

"Ex..._cuse_ me?" he managed, looking into her emerald eyes in confusion.

"Have dinner with me" she repeated with greater conviction "and I'll come back".

House knit his brow.

"I don't really see how this is relevant..." he began.

"_One_ dinner" Cameron insisted, "I'm not going to _jump_ on you" she scoffed.

House arched a brow-- "You _might_, how do I know?"

Cameron smiled softly in spite of herself. She placed her shaking hands on the curve of her hips and faced him, straightening to her full height in an attempt to seem a slight more imposing.  
House diverted his gaze and swallowed. He nodded, almost imperceptively, and turned towards the door.

Cameron's heart fell-- _"so that's it"_ she thought.  
How could she have let herself begin to think...

House turned the door know and spoke, facing the slightly-ajar exit.

"I'll see you Monday" he said, opening the door and letting himself out.

He stopped, hand on the knob, and turned to look at Cameron across the dim room

"I hate 'French'" he said, eyes lingering on her face a moment.

He cleared his throat: "enjoy the champagne", and closed the door behind him.


End file.
